


The Case of the Assassinated Aunt

by moth2fic



Series: The Malfoy Connection [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lewis - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant Hathaway's cousin, Draco Malfoy, asks him for police help in solving a case of too many deaths in the wizarding world. Inspector Robbie Lewis, who is in a new relationship with James, does not yet know about magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Assassinated Aunt

**Author's Note:**

> This story, written for the Lewis Summer Challenge on LiveJournal, is a sequel to The Case of the Disappearing Don which was written for the Valentine's Weekend Love Spectacular and was in response to a prompt by tetsubinatu. My brain clearly took this and ran with it. Reading the first fic would probably help in making sense of this one.
> 
> Many thanks to Fictionwriter for a prompt, helpful and efficient beta. I have no idea what I would do without you!!
> 
> Series title: The Malfoy Connection.

"We sort of need your muggle policing skills." Draco was standing near the fireplace whilst James looked out of the open window into the gardens of Malfoy Manor. He was practising a new spell he had just learnt, turning the tips of the feathers on the white peacocks plum, turquoise and gold in rotation. The effect was pretty and the peacocks didn't seem to mind.

"Who are 'we'? And don't you mean detective skills? And why?" He added a subtle aqua to the colour palette, knowing it would take Draco a while to sort out an elegant answer to a multiple question. One of the peahens moved closer to a cock with rippling finery, clearly intrigued if not attracted.

"As to who 'we' are, just Pansy and myself at the moment; that's one of my school friends. But possibly a lot of people in the long run. I probably do mean detective skills; you can't expect me to express myself perfectly in muggle terms. And it's a case of murder. Do stop doing that. The poor things will never get over the disappointment when my mother makes them all white again, and the flashing effect is giving me a headache." 

"Like strobe lighting," said James, rather absently, turning away from the window and leaving the birds to their own devices. "Murder?" He ignored the jibe about muggle expressions. He was trying very hard to learn magical terminology but he supposed his cousin had less reason to accustom himself to 'muggle' conversation. 

"It's Pansy's Aunt Agapanthus. Or rather it was, since she's dead. We've done all the magical tests we can think of, and even called the aurors in." He took a deep breath. Aurors and Malfoys were not, James knew, a natural combination. "It seems to have been a natural death and that's what the muggle authorities are saying. But it doesn't make sense. That's the kind of thing you investigate, isn't it?"

"We do, but usually only if something is reported to us officially. I can't see Innocent letting us work on something everyone regards as a natural death when we're up to our eyes in other cases. You can tell me about it though. I might have some muggle insights to offer." He smiled briefly at Draco.

"You and your boyfriend could look at it in your spare time." Draco sounded perfectly serious and James looked hard at him.

"We don't get much spare time and what there is tends to be spent here practising magic," he said.

"When you're not fucking like bunnies," came the instant response and James allowed his eyebrows to rise almost to his hairline.

"Besides," he said, choosing to ignore the vulgarity of Draco's suggestion, "Robbie doesn't know about this, about us, about the magic."

"Still? You mean you're so involved with him it's sometimes hard to tell you apart and yet he doesn't know about this part of your life? Why ever not?"

"He's a very - I don't know - down to earth sort of person. I'm not sure he'd even believe me. There hasn't been an obvious opportunity to raise the matter. I thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone." The reasons tumbled out. The central one, James thought, was the one about belief. He didn't think he could bear to tell Robbie about being a wizard only to have him laugh and dismiss the idea as a children's fairytale. Nor could he picture himself proving the existence of magic with tricks like balls of light and colour-tipped peacock feathers.

"Even if he doesn't know and you don't want to tell him, he could probably help with this. Muggle insights, like you said. And no, I'm not teasing you or disparaging your skills."

"Tell me about it, then." Since Draco was clearly going to burden James with the details anyway, he might as well pretend interest. 

"All right. But you could tell him, you know. We don't normally tell muggles but if there's a good reason, such as being a wizard's significant other..." Draco stopped. James wasn't sure the term 'significant other' was much better than 'boyfriend' when applied to Robbie but he filed away the permission to consider later.

"Don't worry about that now," he said. "Tell me about Aunt Agapanthus. Was that really her name?"

"This from someone whose senior officer is called Innocent. Yes, Agapanthus. They're a flowery family. But Pansy usually called her Aunt Aggie." He flung a handful of floo powder on the fire that was barely burning in the grate, and called Pansy. "He's here and he wants to hear about it," he told her and they watched the fireplace while Pansy collected herself from whatever she'd been doing - probably waiting for Draco's call - and floo'ed to the manor.

"This is Pansy," said Draco, rather unnecessarily, James thought. Introductions over, they settled in the comfortable chairs in the lovely room and James decided to leave the peacocks in peace. He would focus all his attention on the story and try to see if there was anything strange about Aunt Aggie's death from an Oxford police point of view. The magical angle was not, he thought, his to consider. 

"Your aunt," he prompted. No sense wasting time on general pleasantries when Draco and Pansy were anxious for his help.

"Aunt Aggie was a bit of a recluse. She didn't have much to do with any of us. She lived in a tiny cottage in Bagley Wood. I think it was an old gamekeeper's cottage. She didn't go out much and she didn't really have many friends. She hardly ever used magic though once upon a time she was a really accomplished witch. Mother said she had some kind of shock or disappointment that made her want to shut herself away and live like a muggle. Well, not like a muggle, either. Like a hermit."

"She must have gone out occasionally. Did she go shopping?" James thought he'd leave the disappointment bit till later, if it seemed relevant.

"I think she had things delivered. But she sometimes went to the village, to Little London, to the post office or the doctor's surgery. She used to send us birthday cards by muggle mail. We always thought it was exotic. I saved the stamps." Pansy paused to blush then carried on. "Anyway, I started visiting her. My parents thought someone should and you know how sometimes a someone turns out to mean you?" She looked inquiringly at the two men, who both nodded. "I didn't go often, just a couple of times a year, and just to check she was all right."

"Any reason she shouldn't have been all right?"

"She was old by muggle standards and she didn't mix much with the wizarding world, as I said. We just thought..."

"How old?" 

"Ninety. But that's not really old for a witch." Pansy frowned and so did James. A muggle doctor was unlikely to think ninety was anything but old. 

"So how did she die and how did you find out?" He needed more information about the crux of the matter now.

"A neighbour went over to see her and she was in the living room, on the floor. The door was locked but the window was open. She hadn't been dead long, maybe only a day or so. They called her muggle doctor. His name and number were on a paper on the wall and he's the village doctor in any case. The neighbour, Mr Martin, phoned me because my name was on the wall, too, with my address and number." James gave an inward sigh of relief. So far, nothing to connect the wizarding world with the muggle one. People would assume Pansy and her family had used mobiles like normal people and if the cottage was off the beaten track they would think any visitors parked somewhere else. 

"What did the doctor say?"

"That it looked like a heart attack but he hadn't seen her recently so there'd have to be a post something, a post mort, I think." She stumbled over the muggle term. "We didn't disbelieve him but it seemed so stupid. She was a healthy witch in middle age, and there was no reason for a heart attack. My mother said so, and asked about telling the police but of course he went on about her age, and it got difficult. By the time we arrived Aunt Aggie had been taken to somewhere in Oxford. To be dissected." Pansy's nose wrinkled with disgust at the idea.

"And do you know the result of the post mortem?" James asked gently, aware that Pansy was upset at recalling the events.

"Heart attack. But it couldn't have been. Or rather, it could, but I can't believe it was natural. We called the aurors and they visited the cottage. Nothing they could do about the body. They said there was no sign of any magic other than Aunt Aggie's own. And by the time they got there everything had been tidied. Mr Martin's wife washed up the tea things and cleaned the floor. The doctor had told them it was all right, you see."

"Tea things?"

"They said the table had been set for two, but I can't imagine who her visitor might have been. I know I wasn't due to visit. The Martins live just down the path and they never really socialised, it was just that they dropped in on her from time to time on their way to and from the main road. They thought she was really old and frail, you see." James saw. It was sounding more and more like the natural event the doctor had described.

"Why can't you believe it was natural? I understand you didn't want your aunt to die, but there seems to be no reason for your idea that it was murder."

"You mean apart from her being fit and so on? Mother said there had never been any heart trouble in our family and you know, James, wizards and witches aren't prone to heart trouble. Not that sort, at least. She'd been for some kind of tests at the surgery; the doctor said he'd asked all his patients to come for a check-up. And he hadn't found anything wrong with her. Said she was hale and hearty, which of course was another reason for the post mortem." She got the words right this time and glanced at him with a kind of triumph. 

"Post mortems are for any unexpected death," said James. 

"But they can't tell you everything."

"They certainly couldn't tell if her heart attack was caused magically but from what the aurors said..."

"The thing is," said Draco, interrupting, "this isn't the first. That's what got Pansy all suspicious."

"Well," said Pansy, "that and the fact that she left the cottage to me and I don't want it. I was just furious about her dying, and wanted to look for reasons. So when Draco told me about the others and I connected them with ones I knew about, we knew we needed help."

"And you," said Draco, "are it. The help."

 

"So you see," James said to Robbie later, "they have a list of unexplained deaths. Well, not unexplained but unexpected and coming thick and fast to people they know, people they might have assumed would live for years. Aunt Aggie's the only elderly one on the list." He mentally apologised to the witch for calling her elderly. Robbie would not understand a woman of ninety being referred to as middle-aged.

"But if they're all natural, where do we come in?"

"They're not necessarily natural; some were accidents. They were all held to be either natural causes or accidental death, yes, but it's the number and the frequency. They want us to have another look."

"But you said they were all cremated, so we haven't even got anything to go on other than the post mortems and coroners' reports." James just looked at him and Robbie sighed. "Innocent's going to love this," he said.

"We can work on it in between other things. We don't even need to tell her unless we get more evidence."

"So let's have this list, then." And with that, James knew he'd won. Now he would just have to be careful to keep everything muggle, but he couldn't do it all alone and he was glad his partner was willing to join him.

"Eglantine Nott," he read slowly. "Died in an accident on a roller coaster at a theme park. A couple of years younger than Draco and Pansy but in the same house and well known to them. Ignatius Flint: drowned in the lake at the school in his final year. Slipped, fell, and his girlfriend, who couldn't swim, went for help but was too late. His brother was a friend of both Draco and Pansy. Benedict Avery: an old friend of Pansy's parents. I mean the friendship was old, not the man. Died at Cheltenham Races after eating a dish containing poisoned mushrooms at a picnic lunch. No evidence to show anything other than accident. Caradoc Gaunt: a close friend of Draco's family. Killed in Oxford in a traffic accident. Run over near the Bodleian. Violet Crabtree: another younger member of the same house at school. Died in London when she slipped from the station platform and fell under a tube train. They've all been declared accidents by the inquests. But..."

"They don't sound suspicious, James. Maybe the mushrooms but I'm sure the coroner investigated. What's the problem?"

"They're all really well known to Draco and Pansy."

"So? We all know people who have died."

"How many people close to you have died in odd accidents in the last twelve or so years? Only one or two, I imagine."

"And this is only five. Known to two people."

"There are other deaths. Heart problems, an aneurysm, things like that. We only listed the accidents, the ones that could at least be looked at again. Altogether there are over twenty deaths in their immediate circle in the last ten years, including Aunt Aggie. It just seems too many, somehow."

"So we investigate and put their minds at rest."

"Yes, but Robbie, you sound as though your mind is already made up. We ought at least to be open minded when we look at the reports."

"All right. Wide open. But sceptical."

"As sceptical as you like." James smiled. He had Robbie's co-operation and perhaps his interest. 

"We'd better interview this Pansy properly, I suppose. But tomorrow will do." 

"It will, most certainly." Having got his way over the list, James turned his attention to the major reason for his presence in Robbie's flat that evening.

Their relationship was still new enough to make them want to be together at every possible opportunity but so far James had resisted Robbie's suggestion that he should move in with him. Hiding his magic from his lover and his lover from the rest of the world would be, he thought, too difficult in such close quarters. He used the excuse of not letting other people know and Robbie had accepted it. Now they settled to watch some television, close together on the couch, hands and thighs touching. They would find themselves in the bedroom before long but they still pretended that sex was not the overriding force in their togetherness. Except that it was, and they both knew it. 

The set was tuned to some documentary; history, which James enjoyed, but boringly presented, with the focus on the expert rather than the ancient town he was exploring. There was music, too, which James should also have enjoyed, but it was loud and intrusive, sometimes drowning the expert's voice. Robbie had stopped even faking interest and sat with his eyes half closed. James moved his fingers so that their hands were tangled together and nudged Robbie with a swift movement of his hip. The eyes opened and fixed on him. The kiss that followed drove all awareness of the programme out of his head. There were more kisses, each hungrier than the last, then they left the historian droning to the empty couch while they stripped each other in the bedroom and fell onto the bed.

Before Robbie's expert ministrations caused James to lose himself in mindless bliss, he thought for a moment about how he was doubly closeted. No mention of his lover at work, and no mention of magic either there or when they were alone. Being a gay wizard in a muggle world was hard. But then his thoughts turned to what else was hard, another kind of hardness, one Robbie could deal with easily. 

 

"There's no point, lad. We need more to go on and I'm hoping this interview will provide it." Lewis occasionally reverted to semi-paternal or senior officer mode and then James knew that there was to be no argument. He felt doubtful about Pansy as an interview subject but they had arranged to meet her at the cottage in Bagley Wood. No sense bringing her to the station unless there really was a case. He had wanted to pull some of the files before talking to the witch but Robbie was adamant, and calling him 'lad' in that particular tone of voice confirmed that.

They parked on a side street in Little London and set off down the track into the woods. The cottage felt isolated although it was only a few hundred yards from suburbia. Trees shielded it from view until they were almost at the door. The door swung open even before they knocked; Draco ushered them in and they sat in the main downstairs room of the cottage, round the table which must have held the tea things on the day of Agapanthus' death. Perfunctory introductions behind them, Robbie leaned forward and began.

"So, Miss Parkinson. I want you to tell me all about your aunt's death. I know you've told my partner and you can assume he's told me, but it always helps to go over things again."

"She was so healthy. She took great care of herself and I think there'd have been signs if there'd been a heart problem. She didn't want any of us around much. She called it 'crowding' her, even though it was well meant and only what any family would do. Any caring family." Pansy paused, obviously thinking back over events. "Then," she went on, "she'd been to the doctor recently."

"Not recently enough," said Robbie, meaning the necessity for the post mortem.

"But he didn't find any problems. She wasn't overweight, she didn't smoke, I don't think she drank much, at least there were no bottles in the cottage, and she was a very relaxed person. None of it makes sense."

"She was ninety," said Robbie gently, but Pansy snorted. 

"People live till much older than that," said Draco quietly.

"But the post mortem confirmed the doctor's diagnosis of a heart attack." Robbie clearly thought this was more important than the argument about age.

"Aren't there things that would trigger an attack? Plants and so on? Digitalis, I think, and lily of the valley. She had those and foxgloves in the garden. And in view of her age they might not have tested for those." Pansy had thought it out, and James knew she would worry at it like a terrier. Whether she would wear Robbie down was another matter. 

"We can ask whether they did or find out from the inquest report, but since you had her cremated we can't go further than that. Let's look at some other aspects of this. Who are her heirs?"

"Me," said Pansy. "I wish I wasn't. I don't want a cottage in a wood, and there's no money to go with it. I'll sell it, of course, but it won't fetch much." This was probably true. The cottage was tiny, just a living room and small kitchen on the ground floor and a bedroom and bathroom on the first. In such a protected rural site it would be hard to get a permit for any extension and there were plenty of small flats and houses unsold in the general area.

"If you hardly ever saw her, why are you so upset? It may seem an intrusive question but the answer might point to something."

Pansy paused a moment before replying. "I loved her. She was part of my childhood and she wasn't as unsociable then. I visited her from time to time and she never told me not to come. I didn't come often enough. And then there are the others." She looked at James, her brows raised to ask if he had told his partner about the list. He gave her a slight nod. 

"But why do you think they might all be connected?"

"There are so many. And I think... I think we're worried we might be next." She glanced at Draco who nodded just as James had done, looking really like his cousin as he did so. 

"We can look at all the files, but we can't promise anything, even a full scale investigation. You do understand that?"

"Yes," said Pansy, sounding miserable but resigned. "But at least you're going to look."

 

Robbie sighed and leaned back in his chair. His desk was covered in files and they had started a spreadsheet that would highlight similarities. 

"All apparently accidental apart from Aunt Aggie, but there's one thing that jumps out at me. How about you, James"

"We're only looking at the accidents of course. But yes, the witnesses. There's one who was there at most of them. Or connected. Apart from Aunt Aggie so far as we know. But she has an address in Little London so we can't rule her out as the mystery person invited to tea."

"It's certainly a link, of sorts, and it would never have shown up without this list. The deaths were otherwise unconnected. I think we need to interview Miss Parkinson again and see if she knows her. Don't mention the name. Just go along with my line of questioning."

James quickly arranged another interview via Pansy's mobile phone. He had no idea if the call went to anything normal but at least he connected without problems. 

"A few things we want to check," he told her but declined to say anything more. They drove out to the cottage when they'd finished for the day. The walk was pleasant after the confines of the city centre and there were bluebells in the woods. Draco was present again too, looking as if he wanted to protect someone. Pansy? Wizards in general? Even James himself? James wondered idly but as he didn't mind his cousin being there, said nothing. Robbie didn't seem to mind, either. 

"Miss Parkinson," he began, and was thrown momentarily into disarray when Pansy interrupted him to tell him not to be so formal. "All right, Pansy then. You said your aunt had few friends locally, but what about you?"

"Me? Friends here? Not that I know of." Pansy frowned. 

"Or anyone you know. Someone from school days, perhaps?"

"Ooh..." The exclamation was long drawn out and they all waited patiently for Pansy to enlarge on whatever had occurred to her. "It can't be. But a few months ago I was shopping and I ran into someone I'd only known very vaguely at school. She was in a different house, you see, and younger. But she recognised me and seemed quite friendly so we had coffee together. I'd forgotten till now. We were chatting about where we lived, just generally, you know? And she mentioned Little London and I think I said I had an aunt who lived there and had visited once or twice. We changed the subject and I never thought any more about it. But Aunt Aggie was my father's sister so her name was Parkinson. I suppose it wouldn't have been too difficult to find her. You don't think...?" She looked distressed.

"I'm sure whoever wanted the address would have found it somehow or other regardless of what you might or might not have said. Don't blame yourself in any way. But can you remember this woman's name?"

Pansy scrunched up her face, making an effort to bring the name to mind. "Some kind of animal," she offered at last. "Wolf, or Badger, or, or... those don't sound right."

"Fox?" Draco joined in. "There was a Marie Fox in Hufflepuff. That might be what's making you think of Badger. A badger is the house symbol," he added for the benefit of James and Robbie. 

Pansy's face cleared. "Yes, Fox. Marie Fox. But she's harmless. Just a pleasant young woman who happens to live round here."

"She might appear pleasant," said Robbie, "but we've connected her to every one of these cases on the list. She was with Eglantine at the theme park, sitting beside her on the ride. She was Ignatius Flint's girlfriend, the one who got help too late. There's no official record of his death that we could find, which is odd, though sometimes things go astray, but there was a newspaper report that named her as his girlfriend." That was the Hogwarts problem, thought James. No muggle records of anything, even death. "She was at Cheltenham when the poisoned mushrooms were eaten. She was with Violet in London and it was her father's Range Rover that ran over Mr Gaunt. She might, of course, be simply the conduit someone else uses to find their victims, or she might be incredibly unlucky, but it's beginning to look much more likely that you've uncovered a string of very cleverly disguised murders, whoever committed them." 

There was a silence as they all pondered Robbie's words. Pansy was fidgeting with something she had taken from her handbag. A short stick. James recognised it as a wand but thought she might just fiddle with it as a nervous habit. He certainly didn't want to draw attention to it. Draco didn't seem to notice. 

The window was open and Pansy turned towards it. Suddenly petals drifted indoors from a rose that grew round the front door. Pansy twirled her wand idly and the petals moved smoothly into a dance, round and round the tip, the afternoon sunlight catching their edges and making the air gleam. The silence changed and was charged with tension. Robbie broke it.

"How - exactly how - do you do that?" His voice sounded strangled and James' heart sank to the soles of his shoes. The petals dropped onto the table as Pansy bit her lip and looked round at the men. 

"Oh," she said. "Oh no. Draco, you told me, but I wasn't thinking. Well, we'll just have to..."

"We won't have to do anything," said James. "I've been wondering how to tell him and now you've done it for me. I ought to thank you, really."

"What were you going or not going to tell me, and what are you not going to have to do?" Robbie sounded not so much strangled as like a thunder cloud if clouds could speak rather than rumbling.

"It's like this," Draco began, but Robbie held up a hand that acted as if he was controlling traffic. A hangover from years and years ago on the beat, James thought.

"I asked James," he said.

James cleared his throat. "We're, well we're different."

"I can see Miss Parkinson is different." Back to formality then. "Do you mean to tell me you and your cousin can do this kind of thing?"

"Draco can." James tried to sound humble and apologetic and was aware that the effort was not a complete success. "I'm learning."

"Is this something anyone can learn, then? Conjuring tricks? Things hidden up your sleeve?"

"No, you have to be a witch or wizard to start with. Draco and Pansy learnt at Hogwarts. That's the school they keep talking about. I didn't go there, so..."

“Witches? Wizards? Where are we? In some kind of Grimm’s fairytale?”

“No fairies, so far as I know.” James glanced at Draco who looked amused. 

“But you’re telling me there are witches and wizards? Real ones? Double, double, toil and trouble and that kind of thing?”

“More like Prospero in The Tempest, maybe, but yes.”

“And I suppose they can turn frogs into princes and straw into gold.” Robbie managed to sound sarcastic and annoyed and disbelieving all at the same time.

“I think you’ll find it was a prince who was turned into a frog in the first place, but otherwise you’re on the right lines.” There was a disturbing silence during which Robbie’s face went through a variety of expressions. It settled on something close to horror.

“You mean it.” It wasn’t a question and the strangled note was back.

“I’m afraid so.” James tried to sound apologetic. Pansy, who seemed disposed to help, made a few petals dance a small jig on the table. Draco snorted. 

"So you're learning now. Learning wizarding.”

“Learning magic, yes.”

“Your cousin, I suppose, is teaching you."

"Yes." It seemed better to tell the truth, to let it all come out.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"I was going to. It never seemed the right moment. I've only known myself since just before that case we had with the retired don. Just before we..." Robbie did that traffic directing thing with his hands again and effectively cut off whatever James was going to say.

"Quite apart from the question of telling me, your partner," he said, stressing the word so that James knew he meant more than just their professional relationship," you might have considered it could be useful in our work."

"I don't think so," said James. "I can only do very small spells. I can make things dance like Pansy did, and I can fly on a broomstick. I could even make you dance." Robbie glared. "Or make your ears big or something, but so far as policing goes, nothing helpful springs to mind."

“Fly?” Robbie didn’t seem to have heard much else.

“On a broomstick, yes.”

“Of course it would be a broomstick.” Sarcasm took over once more. “Of course you wouldn’t have magical bicycles or a winged horse or…”

“Broomsticks,” said James, firmly, and hoped it would be a while before he needed to tell Robbie about other forms of wizarding transport. “And it would be quite inappropriate to use the technique for policing.”

"He can't tell anyone at work," said Draco. "We'd have to wipe the memories of your entire department so what would be the point of telling them in the first place?"

"So you were going to wipe my memory? Retcon or something? Like Torchwood?" James wished Robbie’s current knowledge of magic wasn’t limited to television shows, children’s stories and Shakespeare.

"No." Draco shook his head at Pansy as she looked about to interrupt. "You're James's partner so you have a right to know. It would be too awkward to keep you in ignorance. We have to get you to swear to keep all this secret or we can put a spell on you to stop you telling anyone." He looked questioningly at Robbie who just sighed. Draco didn’t respond to the retcon reference and James thought he was probably as much at sea in muggle pop culture as Robbie was in the magical world. 

“I wanted to tell you,” he said but Robbie just glared. "I'm sorry. Really sorry. I just didn't know how to begin," James continued.

"We'll talk about it later." That sounded ominous but maybe it would be all right. Maybe he could make Robbie understand. "For now, I need to know a lot more about all this and how it connects to our investigation." Always the policeman, the detective, Robbie was rising above his shock and concentrating on the investigation.

"Well," said James slowly, "all the victims were witches or wizards. But they were all killed in a non-magical fashion, which is unusual in itself. Most magic users can defend themselves against that kind of thing, unless it's completely unexpected. And it suggests a muggle criminal, which is also odd because why would they want to kill witches and wizards? Unless there are muggle victims too, ones we aren't aware of."

"Muddled criminals? Muddled victims? Whatever are you talking about?"

"Muggle. It's a term we use for people who have no magic and weren't born into magical families. My father is a muggle. So are you." There was that glare again. "My mother wasn't; she was born a Malfoy but had no magic so she was what they call a squib. And that's why I didn't know about my magic until recently." He decided to glare back.

"So how do you know these accidents weren't caused by magic? Aunt Aggie's heart attack, too." Robbie ignored the terminology and the family information for the moment and got straight to the heart of their case. 

"We asked the aurors," said Draco. "They're a kind of magical police force. They said there were absolutely no signs of any magic in any of the incidents other than the latent magic of the victims. If they were murdered, the murderer used muggle means."

"And they weren't willing to investigate further?"

"They probably wouldn't have the same powers as you to see records of inquests and so on without alerting the authorities to their presence. Or to interview any potential suspects you found. Or the inclination. If, of course, you do find out who did this, we could tell them and..."

"I don't think I want to know," said Robbie, and James wholeheartedly agreed.

"They investigate magical cases, you see," said Pansy. "They're busy enough with that, most of the time."

"But you said," Robbie went on, "they found no trace of magic other than the latent magic of the victims. If Marie Fox was there, wouldn't they have found traces of her, too?"

"Yes," said Draco, "but you probably wouldn't believe how many magic users are around on most occasions, especially at social events or in city centres. Unless they found direct magical intervention of some kind, traces of a spell or a hex, they wouldn't take any notice of background information like that."

"I think I'd believe anything at this point," said Robbie. "I also think it might be an idea if we could talk to these magical police. Is that possible? Or are lowly muggles not welcome to consult them?" James cringed. Robbie was not happy and he was not looking forward to altering that state of affairs. Of course, it would be fun finally making him happy again, but there was a discussion to be had in between now and then.

"I'll ask," said Draco, and James knew just how worried his cousin was by hearing him make that simple promise. 

 

"So," said Robbie, "you've been holding out on me." But he kept his arm round James and that gave his lover some hope that all was not lost. 

"I didn't mean to. I meant to tell you but couldn't think of a way that wouldn't have you thinking I'd had some kind of nervous breakdown."

"It's neither more nor less believable than some of your religious beliefs. I've accepted those without thinking I ought to be sending for someone with a straitjacket."

"But it's less socially acceptable." James ignored the jibe about religion. For now. It was important to let Robbie know he was really part of James's life, strange though that life might be. 

"We can't tell Innocent - or Laura - that's for sure. And I gather your cousin would do something to stop us if we tried. Can you do that? Stop someone talking?"

"He can. He'd use a spell that would either make you temporarily incapable of speech or one that forced you to be distracted every time you considered telling. But no, I can't. Not yet, and maybe not for a long time. I can stop you talking but only momentarily, and only while I’m present."

"Is he so much cleverer than you?"

"Not cleverer. Better educated. He spent his entire school days at Hogwarts and was one of the top students in his year. He's teaching me as much as he can, but I'm very behind. St. Xavier didn't really go in for magic lessons."

"No, I suppose not. Why didn't you go to this Hogwarts place, then?"

Given an opening like that James shared everything about his family, his parents, the row they'd had when his Hogwarts invitation had arrived, and how he hadn't known about the magic. About his fire raising - Robbie raised his eyebrows at that - and about his desperation to know more about himself.

"I thought maybe it was some kind of demonic possession," he confessed.

"See? I'd believe magic over that, any day."

Reassured that Robbie was neither angry nor disbelieving James told him all about the lessons, until he reached the flying.

"On real broomsticks?" Robbie still sounded startled at the idea.

"We call them that. They bear about as much relation to the traditional broomstick as...as...as motorbikes do to a penny farthing. The same basic principle, that's all."

"And here was me thinking all the tales of witches on broomsticks was just imagination, stormy nights and applications of belladonna either internally or to the skin."

"I haven't come across any belladonna, though come to think of it there was another aunt with that name, but she vanished after the war. Or during it." 

"You had an aunt who disappeared in the war?"

"Not the war you're thinking of. This was a war in the wizarding world, fought with magic. I know very little about it except that my cousin was on the losing side until quite near the end."

"And that was recent?"

"It was just as Draco and Pansy finished school. The end of sixth form in muggle terms."

"Not so very long ago, then. They're a year or two younger than you, I think."

"Not so long, but why are you frowning like that?"

"It's just that the deaths have all happened in that time - the time since they left school - so that puts them firmly post-war. I just wonder if there's any connection. I hope Draco can put us in touch with these aurors." James nodded. He hoped so too.

Almost shyly, he showed Robbie some of what he could do with his magic. He lit a candle and extinguished it again, picked up a cup and set it spinning, sealed Robbie's lips so that he couldn't talk for a moment.

Robbie laughed at that one once he could open his mouth again, and sealed James's lips with his own, following this up with his personal brand of magic, the kind that had James in the bedroom, bewitched and unsure how he'd got there, willing and desperate for the spells Robbie's fingers could cast on his skin. 

 

The two aurors who met them at the cottage didn't seem to be on the best of terms with Draco and Pansy. Their conversation was tinged with frost but they shook hands politely with Robbie and James. He recognised Harry Potter from the incident with Galloway but knew Robbie's memory had been either wiped or hazed over. He was just glad they seemed to accept that Robbie was now aware of magic. Of course, that was due to the intimate nature of their partnership; merely working together would never have counted. He blushed as he realised that Potter and - was it Weasel - no Weasley - must understand the sort of relationship he had with Inspector Lewis, but then reflected that the wizarding world seemed to set less store by these matters than the muggle one.

After a few moments of informal chat they were on first name terms though the aurors and Draco and Pansy still seemed to refer to each other by surname, presumably a hangover habit from that school of theirs. James was thinking of St Xavier's with nostalgic affection and was perhaps glad his father had refused the Hogwarts invitation on his behalf.

"We're sorry you had to be brought in on this case," said Harry, his green eyes flashing behind his spectacles. "We should have believed the Parkinsons in the first place."

"But I gather there was no magical evidence," said Robbie.

"None. Agapanthus died from a heart attack, just as the muggle medical authorities said, and there wasn't even a trace of magic used recently in the cottage. Not even to wash the dishes," he added almost as an afterthought. James shuddered a little as he thought of how Robbie would now want to know what household tasks might benefit from a little magic judiciously applied. He wasn't up to washing dishes yet, or rather, they would be clean but just a bit broken in the process.

"And," said Ron, "the other cases they listed had no apparent connection with each other, quite apart from being non-magical."

"Except that we've found the connection, now," said James, and the aurors nodded.

"Marie Fox. But we've scoured the cottage for traces while we were waiting for you, and she's never been here. Miss Parkinson doesn't think her aunt would have accepted tea from a witch anyway. She was reclusive and paranoid. Something to do with the first war." Potter's voice twisted on the addition of 'Miss' to Pansy's name, as if he was sucking lemons. That was all they needed: hostile aurors. But they seemed inclined to be helpful to muggle police. He'd have to fill in the information about the wizarding wars for Robbie. Later. If it mattered.

"But," said Ron, "we've just come across something else that might explain everything. I have brothers. I used to have four but one died in the war. Marie had a crush on him. A schoolgirl thing and it wasn't reciprocated in the slightest, but when he died I understand she was devastated. Sent flowers to my mother and all sorts of sloppy poetry. Begged for a lock of his hair. Anyway, he was a twin, and his twin, George, still has the shop they opened together. Magic tricks for magic users: exploding sweets, that sort of thing for children and parties." He blushed to match his hair and James thought there might be more to the shop than was being told, but it hardly concerned them. "He had an anonymous letter recently. A list of those deaths. All the accidents you have on your list and all the natural ones on Malfoy's. Twenty five in all. Just the list and a phrase: In Memoriam, RIP Fred. Fred's the one who died," he added, perhaps unnecessarily. 

"We thought," said Harry, "you might want to go and interview him and look at the list. You might even want to go over it for fingerprints. We haven't; we don't do that kind of thing much, you see." 

 

To say that Robbie was shocked by the apparation to Diagon Alley was understating the case. James tried to warn him but didn't, evidently, do a very good job. However, he was a brave man and a fine detective inspector, and was accepting all this magical stuff far better than James had feared. He was still looking pale but was reading the list carefully and had already slipped it into a polythene bag (provided by George).

"I'm afraid I'll have to get your fingerprints to eliminate them," he said, and was then treated to a further display of magic as Harry conjured fingerprinting materials seemingly out of nowhere and collected prints from George and from Ron, his fellow auror who admitted touching the list. They brought up fingerprints on the list, even through the polythene, but although they were neither George's nor Ron's, they were an unknown quantity at present. At least whoever had written it hadn't used gloves. 

"I had a feeling something was wrong about it," said George. "All the people on the list turned out to be dead, and all of them were in Slytherin at one time or another."

"A school house," said Draco, for Robbie's benefit.

"You mean this is a feud that goes back to school days?" Robbie sounded disbelieving.

"No, not quite. It's more probably the war. Whoever killed all these people was taking their victims from that house because more Slytherins were on the other side. But some of the victims left school years ago and some weren't involved in the war at all. Apart from the Slytherin connection it seems pretty random but I'd suspect that's how they were chosen." Harry's voice was sombre and everyone looked shaken at the idea that the murderer was selecting victims purely on the house they'd been in at school.

"So what we have," said James, "is a serial killer who hunts down members of a particular house in revenge for Fred Weasley's death?"

"That's...just totally disgusting," said George. "I was appalled when I realised they were treating the deaths as a cause for celebration, but to have caused them as well... Fred would have hated this." He looked gloomy and angry and Ron put his arm round his brother's shoulders.

"At least you contacted me about it," he said. "We might have a chance of bringing them to justice."

"The muggle police might," said Harry, shaking his black hair out of his eyes. James wondered why he didn't get it cut then remembered the scar. The hair and the glasses drew the eyes away from that. "All the deaths were non-magical so it's down to Inspector Lewis to find out what happened."

"Apart from the lad who drowned in the lake at Hogwarts. We don't even have a record of his death. What is it with you people? And you're mighty quick off the mark when it comes to cremation so we can't even exhume anyone to look for evidence of drugs." Robbie sounded annoyed and James couldn't blame him.

"Drugs?" Draco sounded equally annoyed, and a little surprised.

"He means what you call potions," said James. "Things like digitalis and so on: plant extracts that are known to cause heart attacks. And those poisoned mushrooms, of course, but the post mortem on Avery found those. There was just nothing to show how they'd reached him or even which dish they were in. And people do pick mushrooms carelessly," he added, feeling a need to defend the muggle coroner and pathologist in some small way. "Nobody remembered using mushrooms but there were some bought dishes and of course nobody could remember where they were from, and all the containers had been destroyed." That was as far as the authorities had gone with their investigation although the files were still open.

They settled in the back room of the shop to discuss what should be done next. Robbie refused biscuits with his cup of tea. James thought he saw him watching the others carefully in case the biscuits did anything strange but George was not in a joking mood and the packet of digestives was a perfectly normal one.

"I assume you'll interview Marie Fox," said Harry. "She must know something."

"There's no 'must' about it," said Robbie, sighing. "If the fingerprints on the list match hers - but of course we'll have to get those first. And we need a reason."

"We could re-open the case of the car accident," said James. "It was treated as an accident at the time but we could say there's new evidence of some kind of tampering and get anyone who might have driven it to give us their fingerprints. I think her father was driving at the time, so she won't suspect anything as long as we check his, too. Or the mushroom incident. She needn't know she's the only one being interviewed." Neither scenario sounded very plausible, but they were the only excuses he could think of. Robbie, to his relief, nodded approvingly.

"All we need is a reason to get her to call at the station," he said. "I'm not sure how we'll sell the case to Innocent, but I'll think of something."

"If you do," said Potter, "give her veritaserum to drink. Then she'll tell you the truth about all of it."

"Very what?" Robbie was floundering.

"It's a truth drug," said James. "Only it's one that really works."

"It's a potion," said Draco, disapproval evident, though whether of the term or the substance, James was unsure. 

"And I happen to have some with me," said Ron, presenting Robbie with a small opaque vial. The inspector handed it swiftly to his partner who pocketed it with a sense of guilt. Use of the stuff might invalidate any confession they got, but without it they were likely to get nothing. 

 

"About these potions," said Robbie, threading his fingers through James's hair. They were lying in Robbie's bed, sated with sex and beginning to return to some kind of normality. James had not expected interrogation at this point. He thought he had successfully explained all the things that had worried or startled his lover during their meeting with the aurors and that Robbie was reasonably happy although they still had to come up with a way of explaining their interest in the death list to Innocent.

"Potions. Mmmm. It's like chemistry. It's a school subject for them. Draco was apparently top of his class. But nobody used any to bring about the deaths. The aurors would have found them."

"We've got this very stuff."

"Yes, but if you can think of another way, we don't have to use it."

"I think we'll use it, James, but that wasn't what was worrying me." There was silence for a moment as Robbie gently stroked James's shoulder, almost as if he was a cat that might scratch at any minute. 

"You're worried about something else, something to do with potions?" James sought clarity but wasn't convinced he wanted it.

"It's the word, you see." Robbie continued stroking and then took a deep breath. "Stupid, really. It's just the connotations. In muggle terms." He glanced quickly at James as if to check that James was following his line of reasoning, which he wasn't. "I've got that right, haven't I? Muggle terms?"

"Yes. Muggle terms. What connotations?" James was not about to be distracted by the vocabulary. If they were going to have this conversation, whatever it was, they were going to have it. Robbie mumbled something and buried his face in James's throat. James extricated himself and propped himself on one elbow, looking down at Robbie. He raised an eyebrow, showing that he had either misheard or misunderstood.

"Love potions," Robbie said at last, and James felt overwhelming guilt when he recalled asking Draco for such a thing.

"Why would you want a love potion?" he asked tentatively.

"I wouldn't. I just wondered if you'd used one on me. If all this was sort of unreal, or whatever. If it might just stop. I don't want it to stop." Robbie buried his face in the pillow this time.

"It's all real," said James, gently. "There are love potions, yes, but all they do is make the person who drinks one favourably disposed. They don't cement a relationship or keep one going. And no, I didn't use one. This is all us." He dropped a kiss on the back of Robbie's head.

"Like I said. Stupid. "Robbie turned to face him and smiled. "I couldn't really think how you'd have managed it but it worried me."

"Not stupid at all." James kissed his forehead this time. "Magic must be extremely worrying for an outsider. It was worrying enough for me when I found out. But anything you want to know, just ask. Although I have to say I might not always know the answer."

"But I suppose you can ask your cousin."

"Yes."

"And meanwhile all we have to do is work out how to sell this case to Innocent without any mention of magic or magical cousins or personal involvement. Not a tall order at all."

 

It turned out that Marie's father, Adam Fox, was already under observation as a possible villain. His file hadn't crossed Lewis's desk but mere mention of Marie was enough for Chief Superintendent Innocent to send for DI Peterson without asking any more questions. 

"Your boy seems to have a daughter who might be mixed up in something," she told him, and sent them off together to exchange information. They had regretfully excluded Ignatius from their list, but all the other deaths were there, heart attacks included.

"So how did you connect them?" Peterson was surprised.

"Sergeant Hathaway has a cousin who was at school with some of them and knew others. He came to us with a list and we found Marie with links to nearly all of them. It looks as if there's too much to be just coincidence," said Robbie. "And of course we'd like to interview her. Maybe her father, too," he added, thinking of how the cottage had shown no trace of Marie. "He was driving the Range Rover when Caradoc Gaunt was killed."

"I don't want him spooked, but it would be useful if we could connect him to some of this lot. We could interview him about this and slip in some questions about other activities. There are some deaths in the drug scene that we think might involve him but we can't get a firm link."

"Marie first, then. Of course, some of these deaths might be as natural as they seemed at the time, but if anyone has been using something to produce heart attacks, well, someone with drug connections would have access to the equipment and knowledge."

"Good luck. I think you'll find there's a good family lawyer, so go carefully."

"We will," said Robbie, and he turned to James. "If we use the car case, the father will be instantly alerted. So we could tell her we're re-opening the mushroom case and ask her to drop by to talk to us. Then we can fingerprint her if we think there's anything to go on."

They'd have to fingerprint her and compare the prints on the list if they were to get anything to stick. Harry had given them a copy of the list - one that looked exactly like the original and would pass any muggle test. It even had the fingerprints on it. The Cheltenham police, sweet-talked by Innocent, gave their blessing to the re-opening of the case in conjunction with some Oxford murders and other deaths. So they were all set. 

They found her easily enough, living in a flat in Little London. Her father, it appeared, lived north of the city in Old Marston but they weren't far apart. Marie sounded untroubled by their explanation about Cheltenham and mushrooms.

"I'd be glad to help," she said, and agreed to come down to the station straight away. 

 

James almost cheered when Marie accepted a glass of water. It was a warm day and the interview room was stuffy. She sat with her fingers curled round the cool glass, unwittingly providing perfect fingerprints. They would have to be careful when taking the glass away, but that could be managed.

"Well, Miss Fox," said Robbie, starting the recording and going through all the business of identifying the people present, "I want you to tell us in your own words exactly what occurred at Cheltenham that day when Benedict Avery died." They had discussed veritaserum carefully with Draco and he had suggested lines of questioning that might get Marie to tell them what they wanted to know. It would be useless if she told the truth but merely about her name, address, and perhaps the weather at the picnic. 

"When I set out that morning," she began, and the word 'exactly' had obviously been the right one to use, "I had a small tub of pâté in my handbag. We'd made it the night before, Daddy and I, using some mushrooms he picked specially." And out it all came: how she'd chosen Avery because of his family's connections with someone she called Voldemort, the man responsible for Fred's death, how she'd handed him the tub just as he'd buttered a roll, and how she'd taken it away afterwards so that nobody else would suffer. "I practised the sleight of hand needed to get it into my handbag again for ages," she said. "I knew I mustn't..."

"You knew you mustn't let anyone else eat it," James broke in, not wanting her to mention magic while the recording was running. 

"Is there anyone else you've chosen to deal with as you dealt with Avery?" Robbie was not particularly hopeful but it was worth a try.

"Oh yes," she said, and went on to give details of how she'd pushed Eglantine off the ride and Violet off the platform. She started to tell them how she'd waited just that little bit too long before getting help for Ignatius, and how, for that matter, she had only pretended to be his girlfriend in the first place. Then she gave them a list of names and a list of poisons she'd used to cause death. She sounded quite calm and happy about it all and James felt nauseated. Robbie was frowning more and more as the truth came tumbling out.

"What about Agapanthus Parkinson?" Robbie asked at last. But Marie shook her head. James wanted to tell her to say yes or no for the recording, but she immediately burst into a torrent of information.

"That was Daddy. He met her in the village and told her I'd been at school with Pansy, and she invited him to tea. He took some digitalis with him but I'm not sure how he got it into her tea without her noticing. Daddy has helped me so much. He knew how important it was for me to avenge Fred, you see." She went on to tell them about the accident that was no accident, the one that killed Caradoc Gaunt, and then boasted about the list she'd sent George Weasley. "I knew he'd appreciate my efforts," she said. "He might even look at me favourably. He isn't his brother, even if they were twins, but he's the next best thing." 

James wanted to tell her about George's disgust. He wanted to try to make her see that she had done nothing to be proud of. But he couldn't interrupt the flow. Eventually they had information about every name on their list, and nobody had mentioned magic even once. They had a confession and fingerprints to link her to the list, and they could re-open the cases that involved things like fairground rides and underground trains. That should be enough to convict her. Whether they could ever prove the other deaths with only a confession was another matter. As for her father, they would have to bring him in for questioning. Peterson thought he was a 'slippery bastard' but surely they could do something? 

Robbie switched the recording equipment off and asked a further question. "Marie, why did you use muggle methods and not magic to kill your victims?"

"Magic?" Marie's surprise that he clearly knew about magic showed in her eyes. "I didn't want aurors after me. Daddy explained how it's easy to kill people without leaving evidence, especially if the families are going to go for cremation and there are no exhumations to worry about." She frowned. "But you're muggle police. How do you know about anything like that?"

Her hand slipped into her sleeve and James realised with a jolt that she was going for her wand. Somehow, he hadn't expected that, not here in the police station.  
" _Expelliarmus_ ," he said, pointing at her. She couldn't have expected a wizard, especially one who didn't rely on a wooden aid, and her wand clattered uselessly to the floor at Robbie's feet. He picked it up in a slightly gingerly fashion, almost as though he expected it to sprout flowers or birds when touched. James felt nothing but relief that Draco had taught him that spell quite early. Flowers or birds were not what would have come from Marie's wand.

They were all still looking at each other when there was an altercation outside the door and someone, probably constable Gibbons, saying loudly, "You can't go in there, sir." But whoever it was outside was taking no notice of the constable and a moment later Adam Fox was in the room, shaking with anger.

“You fucking bastards,” he said, his voice at a normal level and sounding somehow worse for that. “What makes you think you can interrogate my daughter without telling me? What’s she supposed to have done, eh?”

“Miss Fox is helping us with our enquiries.” Robbie sounded cool and formal.

“Bugger that. I want to know…”

“Mr Fox, you have no right to be present when we question your daughter. She’s an adult. Unless, of course, you’re suggesting she isn’t in her right mind, and in that case…”

“Damn you, of course I’m not suggesting anything of the sort. She left a text on my phone that said she was coming to the station and I want to know why. Now."

“We have no obligation to tell you anything at this juncture.” 

“You’ll tell me. You’ll tell me all of it, you arseholes. I’ll bring my lawyer in on this. He’ll sort you out.”

“All of which," said Robbie, "makes it clear you have something to hide. Which we know already, from Marie's statement." He made the arrests quickly, Marie for the deaths of Eglantine and Violet, Adam for that of Caradoc, reading them their rights in a monotone that showed James how angry he was at having their plan interrupted and derailed like this. They could add other charges later if they could find evidence but these would do to hold them for the moment. 

"Marie, what have you told them? Why would you? What have these creeps got on you?" Fox's face altered with understanding as he saw the glass of water and lunged towards it. "You've given her something, haven't you? Haven't you, you bastards?"

James whipped the glass to safety on a high window ledge. He hoped he hadn't smudged the prints. "We gave your daughter a glass of water, Mr Fox," he said, his voice like ice while the empty vial burned a hole in his jacket pocket. 

"Marie, they can't hold you. They haven't any evidence. And if you confessed under duress of some kind..." He moved forwards towards Robbie, swinging an arm back, fist clenched, ready to punch. His other arm hung by his side.

The young constable, Gibbons as James had surmised, grabbed the man’s hands from behind. Fox had obviously forgotten about his escort and was taken by surprise. Gibbons somehow managed to handcuff Fox despite the desperate twists that he used to try to shake off the cuffs and the grasp. Marie looked resigned and not inclined to be violent. She appeared not to want to mention magic or the possibility of veritaserum any more than they did, though she must have realised what had happened. They allowed her to phone her father's lawyer and they all sat down to wait.

It was probably inevitable that Mr Alderley, Fox's very sharp solicitor, was able to arrange police bail. They had a confession and the suspicion that Fox had been about to assault an officer. They had no concrete evidence yet, and there would be a lot of hard work before they could take the case to the crown prosecutors.

 

"You said you had news for us all," said Draco. They were at the cottage again: Draco, Pansy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Robbie and James. It seemed the simplest place to meet. The wizards were not anxious to come to the station and the police were not anxious to explain their presence.

"We used the veritaserum," said Robbie.

"And?" It was Pansy who was most eager to know.

"We got a full confession. She worked with her father, using muggle methods, choosing victims either from Slytherin House, or connected with families on the side of the war that caused Fred Weasley's death."

"That's wonderful." Harry sounded sincerely delighted. "You can deal with Mr Fox and we'll make sure Marie goes to Azkaban.

"That's a wizarding prison," said James, when Robbie looked bewildered. 

"Believe me," said Harry. "You don't want a magic user in a muggle prison. Even without her wand she could be a huge problem."

"It's not that straightforward, unfortunately," said Robbie. He and James had had more information this morning and had to impart it to the group. "Last night, Adam Fox shot his daughter and then turned the gun on himself after setting fire to the house. The fire didn't really take hold and there's plenty of evidence of drug manufacture, which might explain his actions, but there's to be an investigation of police harassment. Mr Alderley, their lawyer, is making sure of that."

It was just beginning to sink in. James thought about the possibility, no, the certainty of the internal investigation, about the way Innocent would look sad but perhaps unsurprised, about what on earth they could say. He couldn’t stand the thought that his connections with the wizarding world had brought Robbie into trouble with the force. 

“It’s going to be difficult to keep magic out of it,” he said. “We need some kind of plan.”

"We can help," said Harry, rather diffidently. "That is, if it wouldn't go against your consciences or anything. We can remove any evidence, like that list and any recordings. The veritaserum too." James handed him the empty vial with a rueful grin. "We can make sure this Alderley has nothing. His notes will mysteriously disappear."

"That would definitely help," said Robbie, and his voice was lighter than it had been since they'd heard the news. "The list won’t matter. Even if anyone else investigates they’ll only find the link to Marie and that will just show why we wanted to interview her. The recording is probably OK too. She didn’t mention magic, just rambled on. And it shows we weren’t putting any pressure on her during the interview.”

“There’s the glass,” said James. “I sent it to be fingerprinted. It will have traces of veritaserum but I don’t know if muggle tests can show that.” He looked at Harry, who shook his head. “Well then, it just links her to the list.”

“So it’s just Alderley who needs to be stopped in his tracks,” said Robbie. “There’s nothing magical about him so far as we know, but he’s determined to blame us for the deaths. I don’t know about notes, but maybe you could do something about what he remembers.” Harry and Ron grinned. “If he withdraws his complaint or can’t recall the details, we’re in the clear. And," he added, "I'd like some sort of assurance that none of you were involved in this. I mean, you didn't use magic to make Fox do what he did. Did you?" James was making frantic hushing signals but Robbie was determined.

"Hardly." Harry sounded faintly offended. "We didn't even know till just now that you had a confession. Wizards are mostly honourable, you know." He glanced at Draco as he spoke and there could have been knives or daggers dancing in the air. James wondered what that was all about but thought he'd never dare ask Draco. 

"The whole point," said Pansy, "was to get the muggle police to deal with what were essentially muggle crimes. Yes, it would have been better for Marie to go to Azkaban rather than a muggle prison, but maybe if she'd known, she'd have chosen death at her father's hands instead." So Azkaban wasn't any kind of holiday camp. James filed the information away. 

There was an awkward silence and then Pansy offered tea, which seemed to be a panacea for wizards and muggles alike. When they had steaming cups in front of them, cups decorated with roses, from Aunt Aggie's best tea-set, Pansy jumped up again and went to the kitchen. 

"There should be some chocolate digestives," they heard her say. "Aunt Aggie always had chocolate digestives with tea." That explained, thought James, how Fox had got the digitalis into the cup; he'd waited till Agapanthus went for biscuits. Then they heard Pansy's voice again. " _Accio_ biscuits," she said and there was a creak and then a thump as a cupboard evidently disgorged its contents. So Agapanthus could have done that too, but probably wouldn't have done with a muggle visitor present, even one whose daughter was a witch.

They drank their tea and ate their biscuits, making small talk about the weather. That was something else wizards and muggles had in common.  
The aurors stammered a rather formal thanks for services rendered, and took notes about what needed to be wiped from Alderley’s memory. The investigation would be virtually stopped before it started, or at least there would be a conclusion in their favour; Robbie and James were grateful in turn. Draco and Pansy were more effusive in their thanks.

"We're safe now, which was what we wanted all along," said Draco, smiling at his cousin.

Then they all went out of the cottage and waited while Pansy locked up. She had cleaned the tea things with a spell and James was sure Robbie was going to ask about it later. 

Meanwhile, well, meanwhile, Harry and Ron said a swift farewell and apparated away. Draco and Pansy followed them and Robbie and James were left alone in the wood.

"I wish they wouldn't do that," said Robbie, and James just laughed.

 

They walked slowly back towards where they'd parked the car. The bluebells were just about over but there were wild roses in the hedges, and flowers on the brambles. It was almost romantic. 

"Do you mind very much?" James looked hard at a clump of moss. 

"Mind what?" 

"About all the magic. I'm out of that closet now. Only two to go."

"I don't mind in the least about the magic. Why would I? It's part of you; a part I’m willing to get used to. And what's this about closets?"

"There's us, in the closet about our relationship."

"That can't be helped but it might not be for ever." Robbie reached for James's hand and tangled their finger together. The warmth and safety were better than magic, James thought.

"And of course there's being in the closet regarding magic, so far as our colleagues are concerned."

"I don't suppose you'll ever leave that one, lad. Draco said he'd wipe anyone's memory if he had to. But cheer up. I'm in there with you now, and being together isn't so bad, is it?" James smiled and tightened his grip on Robbie's hand. They weren't in sight of the main road yet and it was a beautiful day. 

"I'm glad you're with me," he said, hoping it didn't sound too saccharine for words. 

"Yes, well, I am. And now, James, about that spell for washing the pots. How soon do you think Draco will be teaching it to you?" 

James smiled; the world was exactly as he had expected it to be.


End file.
